


Wafels and Destiny

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Graduate School, M/M, New York City, Professors, Smut, Valentine's Day, Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin works a waffle truck in Manhattan and accidentally seduces Arthur by eating whipped cream straight out of the spray can. </p>
<p>Or, stupid, awkward boys are graduate students at NYU and take a little time, several instances of poor communication, and a blind date to get their heads out of their asses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wafels and Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last Valentine's Day during a horrid snowstorm when I was feeling rather homesick for my beloved NYC, and my undergraduate alma mater, NYU. It, like my current city, got buried in my documents file/snow.
> 
> Granted, I don't go to graduate school there, I'm not a PhD student, I've never formally studied Classics, and my academic experience with Art History is fairly limited. I did try to research as much as I could, but I can't promise this is in any way actually an accurate representation of being a PhD student in the humanities at NYU. 
> 
> For general reference, and for funsies, here's a map of the NYU campus where pretty much everything happens in this fic: www.nyu.edu/content/dam/nyu/advertisePublications/documents/nyu-downloadable-campus-map.pdf
> 
> And for the sake of those who don't/haven't gone to NYU, I'm putting in as many links as possible in the text. Consider it a pseudo-tour of the area. For those who do/did go to NYU, particularly if you went to Stern, beware of some Stern-bashing. Oops. 
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies, and Happy Valentine's Day!! :)

Merlin first spotted the gorgeous blond man who looked like someone had stuck a lemon up his ass on an obnoxiously bright and warm day in early September. He watched him emerge from the subway stop and march down the street and out of sight, all the while looking too sour for such a pleasant day. Merlin could’ve made a bust of white marble of that man and he could’ve easily passed for an emperor from ages past. Granted, Merlin’s skills with marble weren’t precisely up to par for that kind of undertaking, but he still couldn’t shake him.

He found himself sketching the man from memory until a line of students materialized before his cart.

“What’s a _[dinges](http://www.wafelsanddinges.com/)_?” one asked, squinting at the sign and completely mispronouncing the word.

Merlin dredged up his brightest smile and launched into an explanation he gave at least four times a day.

He resolutely wasn’t watching the streets for a total of ten minutes after the crowd left. Then he watched unabashedly. The man didn’t reappear before Merlin’s shift ended and he had to leave.

The next day, though, he saw him again. He didn’t look quite as annoyed at the world – that lemon in his ass must have loosened a bit – but the sun struck him at the right angle. He looked like he could’ve been Achilles in another life. Or perhaps a king. He took Merlin’s breath away.

The man paused on the street corner near Merlin’s cart and checked his phone. He caught Merlin staring when he looked up. His lips formed a terse frown and he turned away, showing Merlin his back.

Merlin gaped, and it wasn’t because his ass looked mouthwateringly good in his tailored suit.

“Prat,” he muttered. He was glad for the din of downtown traffic. Still, he couldn’t help watching him go and disappear somewhere down Broadway.

He added a blue pencil to his sketching supplies after that day. It didn’t quite match the electric shade of the man’s eyes, but it was as good as Merlin could get it.

The Prat emerged from the [Downtown Six](http://web.mta.info/maps/submap.html) entrance every day near the start of Merlin’s shift. He always turned left on Broadway, heading toward SoHo and NYU. The length of Merlin’s shifts varied from day to day, depending on if he had classes to attend or teach, so he never saw when the man left, if he even took the 6 line back the way he came.

Merlin did his best not to wonder, but the way his sketchbook filled with the man’s Roman profile and the crisp lines of his tailored suits said otherwise.

Instead of wondering Merlin thought up a story for the Prat. He was clearly a professor at Stern, [judging by the suits](http://www.bustle.com/articles/35097-how-to-dress-like-an-nyu-student-a-guide-to-mastering-big-apple-collegiate-fashion) and the way he held himself with the utmost self-importance. He probably advised some bigshots on Wall Street on the side and had certainly made a name for himself before joining the [NYU Stern](http://www.stern.nyu.edu/) faculty.

“He probably prevented the collapse of the economy of Estonia or something,” Merlin finished. Will stared up at him.

“It’s a good thing you gave up on Creative Writing when we were freshmen,” he said, shaking his head.

“It could have happened!”

“Yeah, and I could become President.”

“You could,” Merlin said.

“Shut up, Merlin. Where’s that bloody waffle?”

“I’m working on your dinges, Will,” Merlin sighed. He ignored Will’s snickering. “Seriously, who puts this much shit on a waffle?”

“I’m a unique individual,” Will replied. “You love it.”

“I’m ambivalent,” Merlin said. He passed the waffle to Will with both hands; it was _that_ heavy. Will looked a bit like a wolf about to sink its teeth into a fresh kill. Merlin catalogued the idea away for sketching time later.

“We’re going out tonight. You coming or what?”

Merlin shook his head. “Gotta catch up on grading. I’ve got a big paper due soon, too.”

“Next week. No arguments.”

“The paper’s due—”

“ _No_. Plan for it, or we’re kidnapping you.”

Merlin groaned.

“Get out of here before I stab you with my pencils.”

“They’re expensive as shit. You wouldn’t dare,” Will said. Merlin looked at the nearest pencil thoughtfully and picked it up, hefting it like a tiny javelin. Will flipped him off and scurried away.

“Yeah, that’s right! Run, you little shit!” Merlin called out, laughing.

Someone snorted. Merlin twisted around from where he was sticking his body halfway out the cart.

It was the Prat, and he appeared to be laughing at Merlin.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but in typical New York fashion, the light changed and the Prat walked off, though the smile didn’t leave his face as far as Merlin could tell. He didn’t go to Broadway this time. He walked down Lafayette and disappeared into the NYU-owned building that housed the Writing Center.

“Maybe not Stern, then,” Merlin muttered.

* * *

Weeks passed and Merlin’s classes became increasingly demanding. He could only take morning shifts, meaning the only time he saw the Prat was when he arrived downtown for whatever his business was at NYU. Merlin only TA’d one class, but it gave him more than enough work to do on top of his own classes. When a professor approached him about joining a research project translating some obscure ancient Greek texts, Merlin, clearly mad in head, jumped right on the offer.

This meant he really wasn’t sleeping much, but that was the life of a PhD student.

It was cool enough out to don his favorite neckerchief the day he ended up working the Fourth Street truck instead of the Astor Place cart. It made him a little nervous, being so damn close to school, but he rarely saw his students or colleagues at the other cart. His program wasn’t exactly big and NYU was a small city on its own.

Besides, he was parked in front of Stern. No one from Classics ever ended up down there.

He was skimming his notes for a recitation he needed to teach at the end of his shift when someone walked up to the cart. He set the pages aside and started to smile at the customer – only to stop short.

“Oh. Hi,” Merlin said stupidly.

“You’re not usually here,” the Prat said. He looked equal parts annoyed and confused.

“No…,” Merlin said. The Prat kept looking at him and shifted his grip on papers in his arms. “Er. I’m a bit surprised you noticed.”

The Prat didn’t say anything, only continued to look painfully awkward, now glancing between the menu and the library.

“Did you want to buy something?” Merlin asked after a few moments of watching him fail to come to a decision and biting back an amused smile. Somehow Merlin figured he wouldn’t take that lightly.

“Yes,” he said, clipped. “[Liege Wafel, with Nutella](http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/wafels-and-dinges-food-truck-astoria?select=6ltRmUZ4ZjuodL9qNVemAQ).”

“Just Nutella?”

“What’s wrong with Nutella?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said. “I think my blood is made of Nutella. Only – there’s a ton of other great stuff you can have on a waffle here. Fruit, cream, speculoos—”

“Maybe next time,” he replied, eyeing the speculoos jar and apparently trying to be covert.

“I’m trying to introduce you to the finer things in life,” Merlin said, pausing to squint at the credit card he’d been handed. “Arthur. Whipped cream is magical.”

“Look, I’ve got a class—”

“All right. Sorry to keep you,” Merlin said. He handed Arthur his card and waffle. Merlin couldn’t help the smile that burst on his face when their hands brushed. He wanted to kick himself for it, really, because he wasn’t fourteen anymore.

Color flushed Arthur’s face. He gave Merlin a fleeting smile before running off and disappearing into the library.

Merlin almost missed his class sketching the look on Arthur’s face.

* * *

The following two weeks passed in a haze of constant caffeinating and barely remembering to get in two or three meals a day. Will took to buying waffles when he worked the truck and forcing Merlin to eat them.

“I’m not getting the nutrition I need from just waffles,” Merlin told him one day. Will threw a strawberry at Merlin.

“Then make some goddamn food. Order take out. Even I’ve got time to run to Trader Joe’s,” Will retorted.

“You have all the time in the world.”

“Haters gonna hate.”

There really were days when Merlin hated Will for being able to work from home four days a week, and for not needing more than a Bachelor’s degree to get a job in his field. He really, really did.

“Merlin!”

He turned around and beamed at the sound of Gwen’s voice.

“Hey, Gwen,” he said. “How about something sweet?”

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled. “I’ll take my usual.”

“You coming out on Friday, Gwen?” Will asked.

“Obviously. Morgana’s coming, too.”

“Really? You’ve managed to convince her to stoop to the level of us plebeians?”

“Shut up, Will,” Merlin smiled. He handed Gwen her waffle and accepted the money she offered. “Morgana can do whatever the hell she wants.”

“And this weekend she wants to hang out with us, providing Will doesn’t try to drunkenly motorboat her again,” Gwen added.

“Nope. I don’t want her to break my nose again,” Will said.

Merlin snorted and waved them off as more customers appeared. Their voices faded away, leaving Merlin to focus on the rather uncreative concoctions being requested. The line gradually shortened until the last person stepped up to the cart.

“Hello! How can I – oh. Hey,” Merlin stared. Arthur looked up at him with a twist of a smile on his lovely lips. He dug his hands in his pockets, squaring his broad shoulders.

“Hello… Merlin,” he said, leaning forward to read his name tag. Merlin blushed furiously for no reason at all. “I take it you weren’t expecting me to come here.”

“Er. No? I’ve only seen you down by Stern,” Merlin said. Arthur shrugged.

“I’ll take a Liege waffle.”

“Nutella?”

Arthur shot him a look.

“And strawberries.”

“Daring,” Merlin smirked, “but you still don’t quite love yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whipped cream makes it perfect.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah? Taking my advice?”

“I didn’t ask for it, but it won’t kill me,” Arthur said with a withering sigh.

“God, you really are a prat,” Merlin said, amused. It was Arthur’s turn to sputter.

“A… prat?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’ll be eight dollars,” said Merlin. Arthur was still looking at him strangely when he handed the money to Merlin and accepted his waffle. He looked at the tower of whipped cream dubiously.

“I think you missed an inch,” Arthur retorted, pointing at the one non-cream-covered corner of the waffle. It was lathered in Nutella anyway with slices of strawberries strewn atop it. Merlin gave him his brightest smile, the one that usually came off as a tad deranged. The look Arthur gave him told Merlin he looked just deranged enough.

“You starving artist types are strange,” he said. He took a bite out of the waffle while Merlin gaped at him.

“Starving artist! What the hell? Where did that come from?”

Arthur pointed at the sketchbook he’d pushed to the far end of the corner when customers had shown up earlier. It was open to a half-finished sketch of a woman he’d seen begging for money on his way to work. Merlin slammed the notebook shut.

“You were right, Merlin. This is pretty fantastic,” Arthur said through a mouthful of food. He had cream on the corner of his mouth. Merlin scowled and threw a napkin at him. Arthur, the bastard, caught it deftly. “Thanks.”

Merlin scowled harder.

“Haven’t you got an Econ class to teach? Or some souls to sell to the free market?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be brokering souls, not selling them.”

“You could be collecting the souls of young [Sternies](http://thetab.com/us/nyu/2015/11/09/sternies-say-nyu-students-dont-like-sternies-1785) and accumulating wealth like that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You have to be soulless from the start to even get into Stern.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“That’s very true,” he conceded.

Arthur, grinning too, glanced at his watch and cursed softly.

“Time to go broker those souls?” Merlin asked.

“Something like that,” Arthur said. He grabbed a handful of napkins. “Thanks for this.”

“I give good advice,” Merlin smiled. He waved the can of whipped cream at Arthur before spraying some of its contents directly into his mouth. Gwen always yelled at him when he did that.

When he looked back Arthur was still there, lips pursed and eyes wide.

“What?”

“That’s… probably against some health codes,” he said, sounding vaguely strangled.

“Um. Sorry?”

Arthur just shook his head and made his way back into the throng of the city without looking back. Merlin, as usual, watched him go. He belatedly noticed the whipped cream that’d landed on his cheek and wiped it away just as another customer approached.

After his shift ended Merlin spent the rest of the day and most of the next holed up in library finishing his paper. Somehow he found the science floor most comfortable for cranking out the rest of his paper on gender fluidity in ancient Greek theater.

_bobst is my only friend_ , he texted to Will around one in the morning, who responded with, _nerd._

Merlin stumbled out of the library at ten the next morning. He ran home to shower and made it back in time to turn in his paper at his Themes in Greek Theater class. Most of his time in class he spent brushing up on the information for the Ancient Greek I recitation he had to teach later.

He trudged to Starbucks and waited in the absurdly long line to get as large a coffee he could afford. Merlin felt his body bowing over, but the Cup of Life (aka, a Venti White Chocolate Mocha) was within reach. He yawned widely while he waited for his order to be filled.

“Long night?”

Merlin jumped. He looked around and found Arthur standing next to him, smiling a knowing smile.

“I’m going to go with yes,” Arthur chuckled.

“I’d be happy sleeping for the next four days,” Merlin said.

“Ouch. That bad?”

“All nighter, plus late nights in Bobst for the last two weeks.”

“Doing what? Painting?”

“I’m not an art student,” Merlin frowned. “I don’t know why you keep thinking that.”

“You draw well. It was a logical assumption,” said Arthur.

“You haven’t actually seen my drawings,” Merlin said slowly. _With my permission_ went unsaid and clearly heard.

“Yes, well. I saw enough.”

“And you’re so good a judge of art,” Merlin snorted.

“Maybe I am,” Arthur snapped.

“Grande hot chocolate for Arthur!” the barista called out. Arthur snatched his cup, fumbled it into its sleeve – Merlin stared, he didn’t seem the sort to _fumble_ anything – and turned right back to Merlin.

He opened his mouth to speak. Instead he took a drag of his hot chocolate, turned on his heel, and walked right back out into the cool November air. Merlin watched him through the window as he disappeared into the park. He was so focused on trying not to feel like a complete ass he nearly missed the barista calling his name.

 

The next time Merlin saw Arthur was when he was working the cart by Stern one day the week before Thanksgiving break. He caught sight of Merlin, stopped, then resumed his approach.

“Merlin,” he said briefly.

“Arthur,” he replied. Merlin set about making Arthur’s waffle. “What’ll it be?”

“Just Nutella today.”

“Right,” Merlin frowned. He felt curiously disappointed. He looked up and saw Arthur watching him drizzle the chocolate over the waffle. Merlin reached for the powdered sugar and stopped when Arthur slapped six dollars on the counter. “It’s on the house,” Merlin heard his voice say.

“What? No,” Arthur said. “Are you even allowed to do that?”

Merlin shrugged. “No, but call it my treat.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“I was an ass that time in Starbucks.”

“So… you’re apologizing.”

“For being judgmental, yeah. It was kind of uncalled for,” Merlin admitted. “Though,” he added, “you’re a pot calling the kettle black.”

“If you don’t tell me what you’re studying I’m just going to keep thinking you’re in [Steinhardt](http://steinhardt.nyu.edu/),” Arthur said. Merlin could see the beginnings of a killer smile.

“Classics,” Merlin said.

“BA?”

“PhD,” Merlin said, feigning affront. “I’m not _that_ young.”

“You’ve got a green look about you.”

“You’re easy to fool, then. I’ve lived in the city for ages.”

“Moving out here as an undergrad doesn’t count, Merlin.”

“I’m from Queens, asshole,” Merlin said lightly.

“How long are you planning on holding my waffle hostage?”

“Oh. Sorry,” Merlin said, hastily handing it over.

“Apology accepted,” Arthur sighed loudly. Merlin grinned at him. “See you around, Merlin.”

Arthur waved over his shoulder as he made his way down the street to the student center. Merlin dug up his sketchbook and drew idly for a while before realizing he never actually learned what Arthur was studying.

* * *

Merlin found himself in the Art History department at [Silver](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Center). The hall was quickly emptying out as students poured into a lecture hall, presumably for History of Western Art 1. He delivered a file to one of the mailboxes in the main office and started to make his way back to Classics a few floors up when the doors to the stairwell flew open. Caught off-guard Merlin stumbled back and nearly fell flat on his back, had it not been for the quick reflexes of whoever knocked him back in the first place.

The surly thanks died on his tongue when he realized it was Arthur who’d knocked him over and caught him as deftly as he’d caught that napkin a few days ago. His hands were strong on Merlin’s arms. He hauled Merlin upright, his tense mouth starting to smile.

“You’re literally all over the place, Merlin,” Arthur said, sounding vaguely breathless. He’d probably run up the stairs.

“Yeah, well. Interdisciplinary stuff,” he said, waving at the empty hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m giving a talk to Western Art 1.”

“Really?” Merlin blinked. “Why?”

“The course director decided someone should come in and talk about the IFA,” explained Arthur. Merlin raised an eyebrow. “[The Institute of Fine Arts](https://www.nyu.edu/gsas/dept/fineart/).”

“Oh. _Oh._ Is that—?”

“Yes. _Not_ Stern,” Arthur added smugly.

“Could’ve fooled me, with an attitude like that,” Merlin muttered. Rather than marching off in a huff Arthur laughed quietly and absently fixed Merlin’s tie, which had twisted askew. Arthur seemed to remember himself and cleared his throat, taking an awkward half-step back.

“I’ll – I have to go now,” Arthur said. He seemed to get redder by the minute, so Merlin had mercy on him and stepped aside, clearing the path to the lecture hall. Arthur hurried through the door with tense shoulders.

“Arthur?” Merlin called. He stopped. “I still don’t know what you do. IFA’s a big program.”

“Maybe I like staying mysterious,” Arthur replied.

“That’s not an answer!” he said.

“Another time, then,” Arthur said, the lines of his body seeming slightly softer suddenly. Lined by the dark hall behind him everything about Arthur looked soft and bright and a little bit impossible.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Merlin smiled. Arthur grinned back. He ducked his head, the back of his neck red, and disappeared in the hall.

“There a reason you’re smiling so much today?” Gwen asked when he returned to the department a few floors up.

“Nah,” he lied.

* * *

Thanksgiving break proceeded like this: food, food, food, homework, research, food, shopping, food – all with Merlin’s favorite people in the world: his mom and his cat. It was a relief to go back to Queens after so much time in Manhattan, to go home to her cooking and not worry about how much his energy bill would cost for keeping the heat on for so long. The snow that fell on Black Friday made it a pain in the ass to get back to his apartment on the Lower East Side, but it wasn’t atrocious. It was just enough to make the city beautiful without crossing over into [Great-Slush-Puddles-of-Doom-Territory](http://gothamist.com/2014/02/05/photos_nyers_show_strength_as_they.php#photo-1). He brought back enough leftovers to last at least a week as well as extra gloves and hats for when he’d have to work the truck in what was shaping up to be a bitterly cold winter.

Merlin saw Arthur around campus increasingly often, now that he was pretty much always looking for him and his tailored suits. He wore a heavy but stylish coat and a bright red scarf that looked like it cost three times as much as any of Merlin’s nicest clothing. Occasionally Arthur stopped by the truck without the intention of buying anything, simply to say hello between classes. Merlin always felt warmer on days like those.

“Hey Merlin!” he heard Gwen call from somewhere to his right. Merlin turned around and automatically said,

“Hey, Gwen. How about something sweet?”

Only, he found Arthur there instead and Gwen simply passing by, now in a fit of giggles.

“My bad, Arthur. It’s a running joke,” Merlin winced. He glared at Gwen, who was lingering at the halal cart further down the block and kept looking back at him.

“Girlfriend?” he asked.

Merlin choked on his half-frozen water.

“Gwen? Oh, god no. She’s amazing but – god no. I’m gay,” Merlin added.

“Ah.”

“That’s… not a problem, right? Because this is kind of the gayest school in the city.”

“What? Oh, no. I am, too. I just didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“You assumed Gwen was my girlfriend. That’s jumping to conclusions,” Merlin said.

“Blame heteronormativity.”

“You’re picking up NYU lingo nicely, Arthur.”

“I’ve been here since undergrad,” he scowled.

“And yet you still put up with the lines at [Faye’s](https://nyu.campusdish.com/Locations/StarbucksatFayes.aspx) for Starbucks? Shameful,” Merlin shook his head.

“I have it on good authority you do, too.”

“There are better places. Small cafes. Little sandwich shops. The Village is full of them.”

“I know. I’ve been around a bit,” said Arthur, his voice edged with defensiveness.

“All right, all right. What’re you up to today?”

“Classes, teaching, grading papers. The usual,” said Arthur.

“Isn’t the IFA, like, way uptown?”

“It’s on 78th and 5th by the Met.”

“Yeah… why are you all the way downtown then?”

“I’m taking a class at Stern,” Arthur replied. “I’m still _not_ actually in Stern.”

“I know. God, you’d think being in Stern is so offensive,” Merlin said. Arthur looked around and crooked his finger at Merlin, beckoning him closer to him. Merlin hesitated, then leaned out of the truck toward Arthur.

“These guys are a load of sociopaths.”

“Got a degree in Psychology now?” Merlin murmured.

“I minored in Psych.”

“Goddamn, you fucking overachiever,” Merlin laughed. Arthur chuckled, his breath warm as it ghosted Merlin’s cheek. Merlin shivered.

“I’ll let you go back to work,” Arthur said suddenly, stepping back. “Looks like you’ve got a few hollow husks coming at you for food.”

Lo and behold, a group of exhausted-looking students from [Courant](http://math.nyu.edu/) were stumbling through [Gould Plaza](http://www.yelp.com/biz/gould-plaza-nyu-new-york) toward the truck.

“They’re not actually zombies, Arthur,” Merlin chided him. Arthur gave him a look. “Fine, they are, but they’re blissfully ignorant. Don’t ruin it for them.”

Arthur snorted and walked off.

Twenty minutes, five waffles, and one very random ice cream cone later, Arthur returned. He placed a hot cup of Starbucks coffee – White Chocolate Mocha, Merlin’s weakness – on the counter of the truck. He shot Merlin a nervous smile and walked away, coffee-less himself, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat and shoulders squared.

Gwen materialized in front of the truck with remnants of halal food in hand.

“Did that guy… just bring you coffee and walk away?”

“He’s a friend. Sort of,” Merlin said. He knew he sounded as confused as he felt.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Gwen said. “Now. I require a waffle. It’s been a hellish week, even though Hell Week is next week. I think. I’m losing track of time,” she sighed.

“Goodbye sleep,” Merlin agreed. He kept looking at the cup of coffee like it might disappear. After Gwen took her order and left for[Bobst](https://www.nyu.edu/academics/libraries/elmer-holmes-bobstlibrary.html) he took a sip. It tasted like a normal White Chocolate Mocha, but some irrational part of Merlin didn’t want to drink it as quickly as he usually did.

He made it last, sipping it even after it turned cold and tasted too sweet. Merlin nearly tossed the cup, but he caught sight of the writing on the side. There was his name, written in Sharpie by the barista, and then under it in red pen was a phone number, signed _Arthur._

Merlin kept the empty cup long after he finished the coffee and put the number in his phone.

_Thanks for the coffee_ :) _–merlin_ , he texted at the end of his shift after he handed the keys over to the guy taking the evening shift.

_Anytime_ , Arthur immediately replied, followed by a smiling emoji half a minute later. Merlin snorted.

“God, he’s so awkward,” he said fondly.

“Who?” Gwen asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet to keep warm in the icy wind.

“No one,” he said hastily, pocketing his phone. “Let’s get to class.”

 

Merlin occasionally texted Arthur weird things he heard in class, or interesting lines from his readings.

Then Arthur convinced him to get SnapChat and it all went to hell.

Merlin had never exactly been attached to his phone, but Arthur saw it fit to send him SnapChats of pretty much anything remotely amusing and Merlin almost always ended up laughing like an idiot. Once Arthur sent him a picture of his homework, which prompted a game of 20 questions regarding in which Arthur skillfully evaded giving any direct answers. Merlin in return sent pictures of barely translated Ancient Greek texts.

Arthur once replied to him in Modern Greek and confused Merlin even more as to what the hell the man was studying.

_tell me already_ , he texted him not long after settling into his apartment for winter break.

_I’m keeping the mystery alive_ , Arthur replied.

_it’s not your virginity, it’s your program. spit it out_

_Maybe next time._

_you said that LAST time_

_Maybe I’d rather tell you in person._

_it’s really not that big a deal……._

_Then why do you keep asking?_

_because it’s weird that we’re friends and you won’t tell me this_

_We’re friends then, yes?_

_you bring me coffee and I give you food. we’re definitely friends._

Merlin didn’t add that he made Merlin laugh more than anyone and seeing him brightened Merlin’s day every damn time, but he figured that went a little beyond _friends._

_Good._

Unsure how to respond, he texted the first thing that came to mind.

_waffles aren’t really food you know_

_I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth. Sue me._

_i guessed as much. you drink more hot chocolate than most children_

A minute later he got a SnapChat from Arthur of a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows in a rather fancy mug next to the corner of a book. He could see a fireplace and a large couch in the background as well as a rather excellent view of Central Park from high up.

_nice view_ , he replied. After a moment, he sent Arthur a SnapChat of his cup of tea and battered copy of _The Iliad_.

Arthur replied with his own copy of _The Iliad_ beside the hot cocoa, much to Merlin’s surprise.

_im gonna assume you’re into greek stuff too_ , he texted.

_You wouldn’t be wrong ;)_ , Arthur replied. Merlin stared at the winky emoji and then threw himself face-first into a pillow on his bed.

_have u heard of[The Song of Achilles](http://www.madelinemiller.com/the-song-of-achilles/)?_

_No. Is it historical fiction?_

_yep. it’s all the rage rn. you cn borrw it if you want_

There was a pause, then Arthur replied,

_So long as it’s nothing like that movie[Troy](http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/troy/)_

_oh god don’t even start me on that one_

_I’m curious now._

Even though it was the first proper day off from school and Merlin should’ve been smart and begun hibernation, instead he stayed up ‘til dawn texting Arthur. He almost fell asleep at the table during Christmas dinner at his mom’s, but a text from Arthur woke him.

_I’m nodding off. I blame you._

Merlin snorted.

_right back at u_

_Next time just call. It’ll take less time than texting._

_or just come over to mine and we can make fun of troy over chinese?_

Merlin hit send before he realized exactly what he’d done. He turned off his phone in horror.

“Something wrong, love?” his mom asked. Kilgarrah jumped on the seat next to Merlin and eyed the food on his plate.

“No. I just said something stupid to a friend.”

“It’ll work out,” she said gently.

“Can we watch _Elf_ now?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly. They set up their customary blanket fort/burrito and settled into the couch before the TV where the movie was already waiting for them. His mom knew him far too well.

Merlin didn’t emerge from their blanket nest until the next morning. He turned on his phone, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When he could see properly he saw one new message from Arthur.

_Make it Thai and I’m there._

\---

Arthur was away on a holiday with his family until they were both due back in school, so they didn’t get to have their night of making fun of Brad Pitt as Achilles ( _it’s the biggest no homo evr that patroclus is his cousin gfdi_ ). Just after New Year’s, however, days before Merlin was due to resume classes and was still scrambling to fill his schedule, Merlin heard back from the professor with whom he’d been doing research about continuing on the project.

By the time Merlin returned to his classes, he was no longer a TA or an employee of Wafels and Dinges. Will had been looking for a day job at just the right time and they’d hired him in Merlin’s place. He claimed he needed his waffle fix regardless of if Merlin was making them. He was, in reality, just bored and in need of cash for beer. Merlin rolled his eyes and set about settling into his new schedule of studying, studying, researching, studying, researching, and drinking coffee, accompanied by occasional sleep.

Language and translation exams were coming up so most days Merlin went around switching between French and Greek and confusing the living hell out of Gwen, who was testing in Latin and Italian. The first literature survey was due during this semester, too, so Merlin spent much of the rest of his time working on the research project and becoming a whiz at translating ancient Greek. His advisor, Gaius, assured him he’d be fine for the Greek translation exam, and that he was already better than most of the candidates who’d passed their quals, and to focus more on the French.

It was a busy first two weeks back in which Merlin completely neglected his phone as well as all hope of sleeping in his own bed regularly. He was more often than not in some corner of Bobst poring over bad photocopies of old texts or barreling through Plato’s _Republic_ for the sixth time.

The last weekend in January found him doing exactly this on a Saturday evening. His phone started buzzing incessantly. He finally checked it and found seven texts from Will in the last hour all asking where he was.

_9ths floor of bobst. aren’t u supposed to be working?_

_fuck off im working hard for the money_

Merlin laughed a little too loudly and earned a few glares from stressed out pre-meds a few desks away. Merlin wandered to the bathroom at the end of the floor. He returned however to find his seat taken – by Arthur. Merlin stared, and Arthur gave him an appraising look. He groaned and waved at Arthur to follow him out to the hall by the elevator. Out there was the noise of the atrium and they could talk without giving some poor undergraduate a reason to implode.

“How did you find me?” Merlin asked.

“Your friend told me you were here. William,” Arthur said, as though the name was a bad taste in his mouth. Merlin almost laughed. “You didn’t tell me you left your job at the waffle truck.”

“It’s all pretty recent,” Merlin said hastily. “It’s been crazy lately. I got an internship and there was a problem with the paperwork, since I was taking the place of someone who backed out at the last second. I just got it all finalized like two days ago.”

“Ah. You still… didn’t tell me. Your friend had to tell me all that,” Arthur said. Now the word _friend_ sounded sour. Merlin felt the warning bells go off in his head.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” he said.

“Maybe.”

“Look, I’m sorry. It was busy. I just – I’m having a hard enough time keeping track of everything and remembering to sleep and eat full meals. I thought I lost my phone until yesterday because I’d left it in my jacket pocket and forgot it there, and—”

Merlin paused to yawn hugely. Arthur looked beyond exasperated when he looked at him again, though something had softened about him.

“And?” Arthur said when Merlin didn’t continue.

“Oh. And I’m sorry I messed up?”

“I called a few times,” Arthur said. Color crept up his cheekbones. Merlin made a note to check on his phone just how many times counted as a few.

“Were you worried about me?” Merlin asked, starting to grin. Some of the tension between them was beginning to ebb.

“No. I know you can take care of yourself,” Arthur said, adding, “most of the time.”

“How are you holding up? Haven’t you got your quals soon?”

“Don’t remind me,” Arthur said, scrubbing his face. Merlin took the chance to glance at the suit he wore today – it was as perfectly tailored to his body as ever, stretching across Arthur’s muscles as he reached up to rub exhaustion out of his face. He mussed his hair in the process. Merlin found it stupidly attractive.

“How late are you staying tonight?” Arthur asked.

“Uh. ‘Til I finish what I need to do, I guess.”

“I’ll take it that means a while. Same. Let’s get some food,” Arthur declared.

“Food?”

“It’s after nine, Merlin. I’m willing to bet you haven’t had dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get a waffle earlier at the truck if you’re hungry?”

“Didn’t feel like it then,” Arthur said, glancing away, “though I _am_ feeling [Mamoun’s](http://www.mamouns.com/).”

Merlin’s stomach growled loudly at the very thought of falafel.

“I’ll go get my stuff.”

 

Increasingly often Merlin saw Arthur around the library, usually poring over massive tomes and taking enough notes to fill entire notebooks. He’d explained his quals was a paper that would count toward his dissertation; Arthur wasted no time in getting up to his elbows in work.

He did enjoy kicking Merlin under the table when he muttered to himself while working through difficult translations.

At the end of the first week of February Merlin realized that the IFA had [its own libraries](https://www.nyu.edu/gsas/dept/fineart/research/index.htm) and he’d never actually seen Arthur go looking for books in the stacks; he brought everything he needed from outside Bobst. Yet every time he tried to bring it up, Arthur silenced him with a look and continued working without pause.

Merlin sighed and accepted his fate of Arthur keeping him in the dark for now.

One day Gwen turned up with coffee and apologized profusely to Arthur that she hadn’t brought any for him and practically ran back to Starbucks. Arthur looked somewhat confused.

“I’m not entirely sure what just happened either,” Merlin whispered.

“Just as long as we’re on the same page,” Arthur sighed.

He could see Gwen waiting for the elevator talking excitedly into her phone in a way that she reserved for gossiping with Morgana. Merlin frowned. Maybe she’d seen someone they knew in the stacks or the Atrium of the library. He didn’t think much of it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Merlin asked. Arthur looked up suddenly.

“Same as always, probably.”

“Maybe we can do something fun. Hang out somewhere other than school for once,” Merlin clarified when Arthur looked like he might go into awkward-tomato-mode.

“Everything’s probably going to be busy,” he said after a pause.

“Why?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day on Saturday.”

“Oh. So….”

Merlin’s voice dried up. He’s accidentally asked Arthur out on Valentine’s Day without actually knowing what he was doing, and now Arthur looked like he’d sat on a pointy lemon again, except instead of looking annoyed, he just looked… upset.

Merlin’s phone buzzed.

_what’s that guy’s name again?_ Gwen texted.

_Arthur_

When he looked up from his phone, Arthur was already engrossed in his work again. Merlin exhaled softly, careful not to sound anything but neutral, even if his chest hurt in ways it probably shouldn’t have, considering how young he was and that cardiovascular disease didn’t run in his family as far as he knew. He willed his heart to calm down and eventually settled on going to the vending machine.

“You want anything?” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” he said, distracted.

When Merlin returned from the vending machines in the lower levels of the library, Arthur was packing up.

“You finished already?” he frowned. Arthur usually stayed as late as Merlin.

“There’s a dinner for my program with our advisors tonight at the IFA,” Arthur said. “I’ve got to go pick up my tux from the cleaners.”

“Oh,” Merlin managed to say. His brain stopped working at the suggestion of Arthur in a tux. His stomach hurt all of a sudden with want and desperation to fix things – somehow, he knew he’d fucked this up. “See you tomorrow?” he asked belatedly.

“I’ll let you know. Don’t stay too late, Merlin,” Arthur added softly, slinging his heavy messenger bag over his shoulder and taking up his briefcase. He really did look like a Sternie; it was ridiculous.

“I’ll try,” he said, aiming for his usual derisive tone when it came to his study habits, which Arthur usually found amusing. Today it just earned him a somewhat sad look back over Arthur’s shoulder as he walked out.

Merlin watched him go and wait for the elevator. Gwen appeared with his hot chocolate, which she forced into his hand, even though he was on his way out. An elevator swallowed him whole. Merlin fought the impulse to leave the quiet section and watch him cross the Atrium. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass wall.

“Want some company?” asked Gwen as she descended on his workspace. It didn’t look half as appealing without Arthur there all of a sudden.

“Sure,” he said anyway.

The work had to get done, Arthur or no Arthur.

 

The thing was, Arthur didn’t make an appearance on the main NYU campus for five days. At first, Merlin didn’t think much of it. He did occasionally have things to do up at the IFA, and with his paper due so soon, he was bound to be meeting with his advisor frequently.

But did that really take five whole days? A whole goddamn week, essentially?

By the time Thursday rolled around, Merlin was going a little mad. He _missed_ him. He’d texted him at least once each day and sent several SnapChats. He’d even called him on Wednesday night in an attempt to see what exactly had gone wrong, even though Merlin knew very well what had happened. He’d made things really fucking awkward, and Arthur, who was socially inept even on the best days when he wasn’t being a professional, probably didn’t want to bother trying to fix it.

It made Merlin’s whole body feel like stone, like he’d looked Medusa dead in the eye with those thoughtless words.

“You’re moping again,” Will stated on Thursday evening. They were waiting for Gwen to arrive at one of their usual [watering holes](http://www.peculierpub.com/#/) not far from the main campus – a small bar with a great beer selection.

Merlin wished he was drinking something stronger than beer, in all honesty, but he had one more day of classes and work and studying to get through before he had the luxury of nursing a hangover.

“I’m not,” he eventually said.

“You said you and that Arthur guy were having a bit of thing.”

“There’s not a _thing_ between us.”

“I meant a fight or something,” Will said, eyes widening. “Jeez.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Merlin finished off his beer. Will was still looking at him oddly.

“You should probably get laid soon,” he said, as though he was the authority on all things emotional and fuzzy.

“You think sex is the solution to every problem.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Definitely not,” Merlin snorted. He slid out of the booth. “You want another?”

Will nodded.

When Merlin returned with their beers, both Gwen and Morgana were in the booth and talking excitedly with Will. He had his you’re-both-mad-but-I-like-it look on his face.

“Merlin! Just the man we need to talk to,” Morgana said grandly.

“I can get your drinks too—”

“No. Sit. We have an idea for you.”

“Okay….”

“How do you feel about blind dates?”

“The answer is no,” Merlin said automatically. “It’s an absolutely horrible idea. Will, I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

“Hey, it was their idea. All I had to say was, _Merlin needs to get laid_ , and they were all over me.”

“You really need to work on your phrasing,” Morgana said, wrinkling her nose. She turned back to Merlin. “Don’t you trust us, Merlin? We know you. We know what kind of guys you like. We’d never set you up for disaster.”

“If you were going off Will’s idea that I apparently need to have sex to stop moping or whatever, then you’re definitely not going to be that considerate.”

“Fine. If you don’t do this we’re taking you out to a club and we won’t leave until you find someone to take home.”

Merlin _hated_ clubs, especially the grimy ones Will and, weirdly enough, Gwen were so fond of visiting.

“It’s just one date, and you don’t even have to sleep with him,” Gwen said.

“There’s the voice of reason,” Merlin said flatly.

“Think about it. What else are you planning on doing on Saturday?”

Merlin thought of his DVD of _Troy_ collecting dust by the TV and his box of takeout menus in his apartment. He felt sick.

“Nothing.”

“Then trust us. Just do it.”

“I want one of you on call in case it goes horribly wrong,” Merlin warned.

All three cheered triumphantly.

 

Gwen showed up at his apartment with various bottles of hair product and cologne, presumably borrowed from her boyfriend Lance, two hours before Merlin was supposed to meet this man for dinner. They were going to [Lupa](http://luparestaurant.com/), one of Mario Batali’s restaurants, a stone’s throw away from Washington Square Park. Only Morgana could swing a last-minute reservation there, and on Valentine’s Day to boot.

“Can’t I ask any questions about this?” Merlin begged.

“The only questions you get to ask relate to your wardrobe,” she retorted. “The answer to both of those shirts is _no_.”

“I like these shirts!”

“For the department parties they’re fine, but not for this!”

“I’m not exactly seeking to impress anyone tonight, Gwen. The whole getting laid thing is entirely Will’s idea,” he said. He sat on his bed and watched Gwen go through his tiny closet. She returned with a pair of dark fitted jeans and a cashmere sweater his mom had given him for Christmas.

“It matches your eyes,” she smiled, holding it up to his face. He batted her away.

“That’s what my mom said too.”

Gwen sat down next to him.

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t like blind dates,” he grumbled.

“It’s more than that.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” he muttered. Gwen had infinite patience, so Merlin caved. “I messed something up with a friend but… I’ll figure out. I’ll fix things.”

“Have you tried talking to them?”

“I tried texting and calling, but he doesn’t want to talk.”

“Just give him some space. Or maybe you just need to go to him in person,” Gwen suggested. She rubbed his shoulder gently. “Maybe he doesn’t know what happened either.”

“I don’t know, Gwen. I think it’s pretty clear,” said Merlin dully.

“Now you’re just being stubborn,” scoffed Gwen. “Get up. You need to shower and get dressed so I can fix your hair and make you a presentable human being for your date.”

“Fair warning, if this goes south, I’m going to hunt you all down,” said Merlin as he rose. Gwen was already turning the shower on in his bathroom. He sighed, resigned, and went in when she held the door open letting expectant steam roll into his bedroom.

An hour later Merlin was clean, shaved, coifed, perfumed, and generally arranged to look his absolute best for a complete stranger who Morgana claimed to know rather well from life before she moved to New York. Gwen too was dressed to the nines for her own dinner plans. It took him and Gwen twenty minutes to walk to Lupa from his apartment. It’d started snowing during that time, but at least there weren’t any Puddles of Unknown Depth on the street corners to ruin Merlin’s only pair of nice shoes. He blinked away the snowflakes caught on his eyelashes.

“They’re inside,” Gwen said, looking up from her phone as they approached the restaurant.

His heart pounded irrationally quickly. He _hated_ blind dates.

It took him some time to adjust to the dim lighting, but when he could see, he first saw Morgana, looking impeccable as ever, always managing to make everyone look underdressed. She kissed Merlin’s cheek in greeting and, stepping aside, said,

“Merlin, may I present my step-brother, Arthur.”

Merlin gaped just as widely as Arthur did.

Eventually Morgana, clearly irritated by their silence, said, “We had to do something. You’re both fucking ridiculous.”

“You set us up? You knew we know each other?” Arthur exclaimed, shaking out of his trance and rounding on Morgana.

“I mean, we knew you had a thing for cute PhD candidates who work waffle trucks, so we just went down the list and interviewed every gay waffle maker in Manhattan—”

“Morgana,” Arthur growled.

“Calm down, Arthur,” she laughed. “Gwen figured it out after I complained to her about how much you were pining over your _friend in the Classics department_.”

“It was getting to be a bit much,” Gwen said, biting her lip as she looked between Merlin and Arthur. “Don’t kill us, Merlin.”

“We’re still having a long chat about boundaries next week.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded. “Let’s go, Morgana. Lance and Leon are already waiting at the restaurant.”

“Where are you going?”

“The View,” Morgana said nonchalantly. “Arthur, love, check your pockets before you take your wallet out. Have a good night boys!”

They walked out arm in arm, looking conspiratorial and pleased as ever.

“Sirs? Would you like to take your seats? Or will you be cancelling your reservation?” asked the host, hovering with two menus and a drink list in hand.

“Merlin? What do you want to do?” Arthur asked. He sounded so close, standing at his side. He also sounded like he was trying hard not to be concerned by his answer.

“Do you want to stay?” Merlin asked.

Arthur looked around.

“Seems a waste of a perfectly good reservation if we go,” said Arthur. The uncaring way he said it struck Merlin’s already tense nerves. They handed their coats to the man working the cloakroom and let the host show them the way to their table. The host rattled off the specials of the day but it all went in one ear and out the other for Merlin.

“Thank you,” Arthur said politely.

“Anything to drink?”

Arthur took a quick look at the drinks menu and said, “We’ll take the 2012 Vespa Bianco,” pointing at the list.

“Coming right up.”

Arthur pushed the drinks menu aside and opened up the food menu.

“Arthur,” Merlin said.

“Merlin,” he drawled, voice low and soft. It sent a shiver right through Merlin. He still didn’t look up from the menu.

“Just – look at me,” Merlin snapped. He reached across and pushed the menu down flat on the table. Arthur looked ready to protest but his eyes went wide and almost regretful the moment he saw Merlin’s face. He consciously softened his expression. “Thanks. Now will you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur scoffed. There it was again, that standoffish, lemon-up-his-ass attitude that grated Merlin like nothing else tonight.

“You’re right. You’ve been _ignoring_ me. That’s a different level of dickish behavior,” Merlin said. The waiter returned with the wine just then and filled their glasses. Merlin drank half the glass in one go.

“It’s good wine. Don’t drink it so quickly,” Arthur said.

“Maybe I want to. Maybe I’m mad at you for a change,” said Merlin. He drank a bit of water instead and put the glass down a little loudly. “I get it. I messed up, but here we are still unintentionally on a date even though you clearly didn’t like the idea last week—”

“When the hell did I ever say that? _You’re_ the one who backed down the moment I said you were suggesting we go out on Valentine’s Day,” Arthur scowled.

“Yes! Because I didn’t mean it as a date, but that’s clearly the way it came out, and you looked like it was such a stupid, bad idea—”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again Merlin. I never said that,” he said slowly, as though Merlin was trying the last shred of his patience.

“It was written all over your face! You looked so – so – off-put!”

“Because you looked like you’d have rather swallowed your tongue than suggest we go out on a date!”

“What? No. I – why did that bother you so much?”

“Isn’t it really obvious? Morgana said it was, so I thought you’d figured me out,” Arthur said, slipping into derision heavy enough to give Merlin a run for his money when he’s in one of his funks. He paused to drink half his own wine glass. “I don’t have to study at Bobst; there’s a perfectly good library at the IFA. My class at Stern ended last semester. I could have gone to the waffle trucks uptown if I really wanted it rather than come all the way to the Village.”

“But you still came here… for weeks.”

“I live uptown, too,” he said sullenly.

“Then… you kept coming here to see me? Is that it?” Merlin asked. He felt both hot and cold all over. Arthur was already folding his napkin and rising to leave. “Arthur, no, wait!”

Merlin grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the table.

“I don’t like making a fool of myself, Merlin. Let go,” he said quietly. His voice was steady but Merlin thought he’d never seen or heard Arthur quite so uneven. Merlin stood up, not relinquishing Arthur’s hand, and leaned in close, so they wouldn’t continue their near-shouting match in the restaurant.

“Stay? Please?”

“I was happy to just stay and have a nice dinner with a – a friend but – look, I’ve made a complete ass of myself. I’d rather just go home and—”

Merlin leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, finally effectively halting him. He could feel the tension in Arthur’s body wind down, his rampant thoughts coming to a stop. Merlin’s heart raced as they stood there, barely kissing, hardly touching beyond their lips and their joined hands.

Eventually, Arthur relaxed enough to press back. Relief suffused them both like warmth from the sun. Merlin smiled into the short kiss and drew away.

“Was that okay?”

“Yes,” Arthur breathed, looking at Merlin like he couldn’t quite believe he was standing before him.

“Then sit down, will you? We’re causing a scene,” he murmured, smiling uncontrollably. Arthur nodded and sat down. His hands shook as he topped up their wine glasses. Merlin took Arthur’s hand and held it across the table. Arthur squeezed back.

Their waiter arrived to take their orders, forcing Merlin to let go of Arthur’s hand. He felt entirely bereft without touching him. By the time they were finished ordering Arthur seemed entirely back to normal, even more relaxed than before, in fact.

“So,” he said after a stretch of comfortable silence between them. “Is this a date now?”

“I think it is,” Merlin said, taking a careful sip of his wine. He glanced at Arthur over the rim, aiming to challenge. Arthur grinned and rose to the bait eagerly.

“Tell me about yourself, then.”

“I’m from Queens. I’ve got a cat at home with my mom. I tried to play Quidditch once but I got hit by a broom and ended up concussed.”

“Where did you go for undergrad?”

“Columbia,” Merlin replied. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You’re in a better place now, at least,” he said. Merlin couldn’t stop grinning now.

“Go on. What about you?”

“Grew up near Boston with my dad and Morgana,” Arthur said, “then moved out to California during high school. We spent summers in Greece. My mom was from there.”

Merlin didn’t comment on the use of past tense.

“So that’s why you know Greek?”

“Modern, yes, but I needed it for school, too.”

Arthur paused to drizzle olive oil over a slice of warm bread.

“Tell me. What do you do, Merlin?” he asked. There was a playful twinkle in his eye.

“I’m going for my PhD in Classics. I’d like to work on pre-Homeric translations in Greece someday,” Merlin said. He started to smile widely. “What about you, Arthur? What are you studying?”

Arthur laughed.

“I’m studying at the Institute of Fine Arts, also for a PhD. I’m going to be an art curator for ancient Greek art. I just finished the first draft for my Qualifying paper today, in fact.”

“Well done,” Merlin beamed. “See? Not so mysterious now, are you?”

“I’ve got other secrets,” Arthur said, “as I’m sure you do.”

“You know me, I’m an open book,” Merlin said innocently.

“Sure.”

“You’ll learn them sooner or later,” he said, smiling softly. “I… I’m glad we’re here, doing this.”

Arthur looked at him, for once looking entirely at ease and open, and smiled.

“Me too, Merlin.”

“We can’t let Gwen and Morgana think we’re going to thank them for this.”

“I mean, would we really be holding hands at a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day if it hadn’t been for them?”

“Er. No, but we might’ve pulled our heads out of our asses at some point,” Merlin said, wincing. Arthur stroked the back of Merlin’s hand with his thumb until he was smiling again.

“We’ll keep them at bay,” Arthur vowed.

“Let’s not talk about them anymore,” Merlin declared.

“Good idea.”

 

Holding Arthur’s hand was enough to get Merlin excited and hot and bothered, even through two layers of gloves. They walked through [the park](http://www.boomsbeat.com/articles/2157/20140413/check-out-the-beautiful-washington-square-in-new-york-city-photos.htm) slowly, shoulders brushing, talking and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. It was fantastic.

“I told you hanging out outside Bobst was a good idea,” Merlin said with a contented sigh. They sat on one of the benches by the fountain. The arch was illuminated brightly, the lightly falling snow seeming to slow time as it cut through the bright beams.

“You might’ve been insufferable in a nonacademic setting,” Arthur mused.

“Me? You were much more likely to be the git outside class.”

“Why?” he exclaimed.

“You dress like you go to Stern every day!”

“Because I, like you, do research, but it’s at the Met, and I have to talk to important people fairly often,” said Arthur.

“Or, you and Morgana come from a family of incredibly well-dressed snobs.”

“The answer is all of the above,” he conceded. Merlin chuckled. Arthur released his hand to put his arm around Merlin and draw him close, even though the air wasn’t all that cold and the wind was very still now. Merlin huddled in close, tucking his head into the base of Arthur’s neck and breathing him in deeply. He smelled like the food they’d eaten and very pleasant cologne.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, shifting again.

“Yeah?”

“Can – can I kiss you again?”

Merlin felt absurdly happy that he was even asking at all. Merlin cupped Arthur’s face, running his thumb along the plane of his cheekbone, but he let Arthur close the gap between them.

There, alone in the darkness of the park with just the snow and the city as their witnesses, the kiss was like nothing else. The food coma Merlin had felt coming on disappeared entirely, his whole body surging with warmth and energy and a rush of primal want he’d been so carefully tamping down since he first saw Arthur that sunny September day. He suddenly felt like a parched man in the desert throwing himself headfirst into an oasis.

Judging by the small, desperate sounds he made and the way he searched for purchase on Merlin to bring them as close as their many layers would permit, Arthur was on the same page.

Merlin eventually dragged himself back, out of breath and sweating and feeling bruised about his mouth, but not nearly bruised enough.

“I—”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, looking utterly debauched. Merlin had completely ruined his hair by running his gloved hands through it. His lips were red and shining and Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“We’re idiots.”

“A bit,” Arthur barked out a laugh. Merlin smiled, resting his forehead against Arthur’s. He inhaled a mix of Arthur’s scent and the sterile cold air and felt a rush of dizzying desire all over again.

“I was going to suggest we go get bubble tea or something—”

“You’ve got the worst sweet tooth, Arthur,” Merlin grinned. “It’s horrible.”

“Yeah, well,” he admitted. “But – I think—”

He let his hand rest on Arthur’s thigh just above his knee. The jacket was too long for Merlin to go further up; feeling emboldened he slid his hand into the soft, warm space between his legs instead.

Arthur stood up abruptly. He held out a hand to Merlin, looking down at him with heat in his gaze.

Merlin got up and kissed Arthur full on the mouth again, his tongue finding easy entrance as he licked his way in. Arthur grabbed Merlin by the waist with both hands and hugged him flush against his body. Even through that damn coat Merlin could tell Arthur was already hard.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all these months,” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s mouth, kissing his jaw, his neck, mouthing at a spot where he knew Arthur could feel his racing pulse under his lips.

Merlin rolled his hips against Arthur’s and let him feel just how much of an effect he had on him.

“You sure about that?” he asked hoarsely.

“That day you,” he paused to kiss Merlin again, his lips ghosting Merlin skin as he moved, his arms strong and enticing around him. “That day you got me to put whipped cream on my waffle. You ate the cream right from the nozzle.”

“That was, ah, a bit gross,” Merlin admitted, gasping again when Arthur nipped his ear. His hips bucked involuntarily. Arthur groaned softly.

“I was so turned on by that. I – I already had a bit of a thing for you, but that? I wanted that stupid can of cream to by my cock. I wanted to come in your mouth and watch you eat it all up—”

“Arthur!” Merlin gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop. I’ll come right here in the park and then it’ll be cold and wet and we don’t want that.”

Arthur snickered.

“Scared someone might see?”

“No. What, you get off on that?”

Arthur grinned wickedly, saying, “I’m pretty sure that’s at least a third date conversation.”

“Yeah? Have you really got rules for this sort of thing?”

“I like to get to know my partner a bit before I… trust them with that kind of information.”

“Aw. You don’t trust me with that?”

“I do. I just want to be sure you’re not going anywhere first,” he said softly.

Merlin reached down, rucked up Arthur’s coat, reached around, and cupped Arthur’s ass through his snug, perfectly tailored trousers. He squeezed just enough to make Arthur squirm and gasp.

“I promise you I’m not. My place,” Merlin said, pulling back, not taking his hands off Arthur, “is twenty minutes away. If you’re a first date kind of guy.”

Arthur, eyes wide and dark, said,

“Mine’s ten if we take a cab.”

 

Merlin was fairly sure he’d never experienced a longer elevator ride in his life. The cab ride was bad enough, especially when they hit post-Broadway-show traffic just north of midtown. Arthur didn’t make it easier, sitting close, touching him all over, letting Merlin touch him, too – Merlin was a fairly patient person but tonight he completely lacked that virtue.

Among others.

They barreled out of the elevator clinging to each other, a little out of breath from kissing hard enough to make Merlin light-headed. Arthur fumbled a little with the keys before shouldering the apartment door open and pinning Merlin to the wall beside it just inside. He kneed the front door closed and dove in, barely touching Merlin’s mouth before settling his lips on his jaw. His hands went to the scarf still tied relatively tightly around Merlin’s neck. The knot seemed to come undone at Arthur’s bidding and he tore it away, moving his mouth lower on Merlin’s skin, his tongue trailing the length of a vein.

Merlin’s knees almost gave way at the onslaught of feeling. He started tearing Arthur’s expensive coat open, completely disregarding the flying buttons and ran his hands up and down Arthur’s front. The soft material of Arthur’s dress shirt was slightly damp, Arthur’s muscles underneath quivering with every pass of Merlin’s hands.

He hooked one hand around the back of Arthur’s neck, a finger through a belt loop, and hauled Arthur against the wall beside him. Merlin stepped back from the wall and threw his coat aside toward the couch. He toed his shoes off, his eyes never leaving Arthur. Arthur’s eyes followed everywhere Merlin’s hands went, from untucking his shirt to wiping the sweat off his upper lip.

“You just gonna watch? Or are you going to help?”

Arthur kicked his shoes aside and caught Merlin by the middle, walking him back through the apartment, his lips devouring Merlin’s. He trusted Arthur not to back him into a wall or a sharp object, at least. Arthur dragged a hand off him to open a door. Merlin looked behind him and saw a massive bedroom with a king-size bed and a bookshelf full of titles Merlin recognized. Merlin grinned and kissed Arthur hard.

He bucked into Arthur’s hips when Arthur slid his hands over Merlin’s rear.

“Christ,” Merlin gasped.

“Just returning the favor,” Arthur chuckled into his ear, nosing the shell.

“I’ve been ogling your ass since before you even talked to me, you prat.”

“Not my fault I never saw you outside that damn cart until October.”

“That such a tragedy?”

“You’ve got a fantastic ass,” Arthur murmured. He squeezed briefly, then moved his hands to Merlin’s belt buckle, adding, “when you’re wearing pants that fit.”

“I’m lean. Hard to find good pants that aren’t emo kid skinny jeans,” Merlin retorted. He unbuttoned Arthur’s shirt the rest of the way and stripped it off him. “Already did that phase. I’m not going back.”

“I like skinny jeans,” Arthur remarked. He looked Merlin up and down, clearly imagining it. “With a little eyeliner—”

“Goddamn it. You’re secretly a kinky little shit, aren’t you?” Merlin laughed. His ear got caught on his undershirt as Arthur pulled it off.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Never said I wasn’t one too, did I?”

Arthur’s belt buckle clinked as it opened. He let his trousers drop, leaving Arthur in nothing but boxer briefs and leaving Merlin’s mouth watering. Arthur smirked.

“Like what you see?”

“Obviously,” Merlin blurted. He hesitated. “You know I’m not – all muscley and – and shit.”

“I know,” Arthur said.

He unbuttoned Merlin’s pants and dragged the zipper down. Arthur looked down at the obvious bulge in Merlin’s trousers, then up at his face. He looked oddly soft, almost fond. He kissed his lips, his chin, his Adam’s apple, the space between his collarbones at the base of his neck, all the way down his chest, dropping to his knees as he went. Arthur exhaled lowly, his face pressed to Merlin’s navel.

“I think you’re so fucking sexy, you have no clue,” he said, inhaling sharply. He grabbed the sides of Merlin’s pants and pulled them down. Merlin stepped out of them just in time for Arthur to push him back on the bed, spread his legs, and kneewalk into the space there.

Merlin’s whole body reacted to the sight of Arthur on his knees between his legs. Arthur grinned wolfishly and kissed the bulge in Merlin’s underwear.

“Fuck, Arthur.”

“Can I suck you?”

“God, yes.”

Merlin lifted his hips just enough for Arthur to pull his underwear off the rest of the way. The duvet on Arthur’s bed felt cold on his skin, Arthur’s hands like firebrands on his thighs. He took Merlin’s cock in hand, twisting as he moved it from base to tip. Merlin nearly arched right off the bed. He braced himself on his elbows so he could still watch Arthur and avoid becoming a puddle on the floor.

Arthur wrapped his lips around the head of Merlin’s cock and swirled his tongue over the slit. He took him in slowly, further and further, running the flat of his tongue along the underside at an agonizing pace. Chest heaving Merlin had to bite back a shout when Arthur hollowed his cheeks and _sucked_. Arthur pulled off and said,

“I live alone you know. You can be as loud as you want.”

“You have neighbors.”

“Let them hear.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve got an exhibitionist streak,” Merlin said, stumbling on his words as Arthur sucked him back into the wet heat of his mouth. He glanced up at Merlin and looked at him like he’d find out soon about that kink if they kept it up. Merlin sat up and sucked in a deep, steadying breath, watching Arthur suck him off, looking so pleased and at peace.

“You were fucking made for this,” Merlin murmured.

Arthur looked up and winked, plainly saying _I’ve been told_. Merlin felt a sharp surge of jealousy. He shuffled forward and ran his fingers through Arthur’s soft hair. Arthur hummed around his cock, gripping Merlin’s hips hard enough to bruise when he involuntarily thrust up into him. Arthur moved a hand away from his hip to the base of his cock, working the lower half while he picked up the pace on the head. The slurping sounds in the otherwise silent room were completely obscene; Merlin loved it. He nearly came from that alone.

His head started swimming, heat pooling low, when Arthur snuck a hand back and rolled his balls, one long finger teasing the thin sensitive skin behind them. Merlin cried out and pulled hard on Arthur’s hair.

“Too much?” he asked, panting.

“Don’t want to come yet.”

“Tell me what you want,” Arthur said. He rose from his knees and tossed his boxer briefs aside. His cock was hard and red, the head shining with precome. Merlin’s head spun with the possibilities.

“We’ll get to all of it,” Arthur promised, reading his mind.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Merlin smiled. He crawled back on the bed, making room for Arthur to climb on and kneel before him.

“So. What’ll it be?” Merlin asked.

Arthur laughed. “It sounds like you’re asking me for my order at the waffle truck.”

“I’m really hoping you think this is better than a goddamn waffle,” Merlin said as seriously as he could. Arthur stretched himself out over Merlin, every inch of skin-on-skin contact making Merlin hyperaware of his every move. He pushed the hair off Merlin’s face and kissed him. Merlin moaned into it when he tasted himself on Arthur’s tongue.

“Fuck me,” he breathed. Arthur smiled a little dopily and said,

“Coming right up.”

“Puns? Really?”

“Thought you’d like it.”

“Fuck. I do. I fucking love it.”

Merlin lost all sense of coherence. Arthur traced a finger along the skin behind his balls until he found his hole. Still relaxed from having Arthur suck him off Merlin felt his body give in to the intrusion almost immediately. Arthur worshipped his neck, his chest, fixating for _ages_ on his nipples, which he’d never known to be quite so sensitive before. He had Merlin arching and bucking and desperate for friction all too quickly. He squeezed the base of Merlin’s cock with his free hand and kissed the leaking head as he worked a second finger in and scissored Merlin open.

He gasped and moaned low and deep when Arthur crooked his fingers deep inside and found his prostate, sparking lightning strikes all through his body, Arthur’s teeth tugging at a nipple absolutely making it worse. Merlin whimpered.

“Fuck, Arthur, just do it already.”

“I’m getting there.”

“ _Arthur_.”

“Bossy,” Arthur said, grinning.

“Was that in your trouser pocket?” Merlin asked, propping himself upon an elbow. Arthur cut a gorgeous figure in the dim light coming from outside, all strong, clean lines, his cock high and full jutting out from his body. He was in every way ideal. He’d have been a Greek artist’s wet dream, especially if he’d looked at them the way Arthur looked at him now. The gods would have adored him and wanted him, too.

And yet Merlin was the one in Arthur’s bed. He couldn’t believe his goddamn luck.

“Morgana stuck them in with my wallet before we left apparently.”

“She’s not good at subtlety.”

“No, not at all,” he said. The bed dipped under his weight. He reached across Merlin to rifle through the bedside cabinet, his cock trailing precome across Merlin’s belly. Merlin reached and stroked it a few times. Arthur’s legs trembled.

“You’re not going to get what you want if you keep it up.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to come in my mouth.”

“Later. I really want to fuck you right now,” Arthur said, finally sitting back with a bottle of lube in hand, the condom packet in the other.

“You’re all talk so far,” Merlin said, lying back again.

“We’ll see about that. Right now, just let me take care of you.”

Arthur’s lube-coated fingers found Merlin’s hole, which welcomed him back easily. He worked in a third finger, then retreated. Merlin raised his hips a little in an effort to turn over but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his stomach.

“I want to see you,” he said softly.

Merlin nodded, oddly touched. He relaxed into the pillows and waited Arthur come close again. The head of his cock breached his entrance and edged in, the burn almost overwhelming the intense, over-the-top pleasure that flooded Merlin. Arthur gripped the base of Merlin’s cock tightly as he moved in the final stretch and bottomed out, his balls snug against Merlin’s ass.

“Shit,” Arthur said, eyes shut tight, his upper body both tense and relaxed as he bent over Merlin propped up on his elbows bracketing his head. Merlin reached one weak arm up and dragged Arthur down for a kiss, running the other hand loosely up and down Arthur’s flank.

“You good?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah. You might want to move,” Merlin suggested. He rolled his hips and Arthur rolled with him, pulling out just enough to thrust back in. Merlin’s mouth fell open at the sensation.

“Better?” Arthur grunted.

“Keep going.”

He did. He pulled out further and further each time, thrusting back in fluidly. Their kisses were more like lips brushing and sharing the same breathing space, grunting and moaning into each other’s ears. Arthur gripped Merlin’s hip and changed his angle just enough to hit the right spot on each thrust. Merlin’s voice abandoned him. He gasped and writhed and dug his nails into Arthur’s skin until Arthur’s thrusts came harder, faster, less smoothly, more desperately.

“Come on, Arthur.”

He wrapped his legs more tightly around his waist and dug his heels into the backs of Arthur’s thighs, urging him on.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Arthur—”

Arthur thrust twice, hard, hitting Merlin’s prostate head on each time. He sent Merlin clear over the edge, coming so hard his vision whited out and he couldn’t hear a damn thing until his heart rate calmed down. He’d come all over his and Arthur’s chests. Arthur must have come as well, his body heavy and limp, now resting his forehead on Merlin’s collarbone, still catching his breath. Merlin ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

He pulled out gingerly, tied off the condom, and tossed it in a trashcan in the bathroom. Merlin shivered in the cold settling on his skin. Arthur returned with a wet towel and cleaned him off carefully, thoroughly, kissing the skin he cleaned as he went. He wasn’t exactly seventeen anymore but Merlin knew if Arthur kept it up he’d be hard again soon.

Merlin pulled Arthur up beside him, gathering him up in his arms. He sighed happily, moved the covers up over them, and threw an arm around Merlin’s waist, burrowing in beside him.

“We’re sleeping first,” Merlin said softly, “but when we get up I’m sucking your cock. You’re going to come harder than you ever have.”

“That’s a high bar to set.”

“Think I can do it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he smiled into Merlin’s shoulder.

“In the morning,” Merlin yawned.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“This is a much better Valentine’s Day than I thought it’d be,” Arthur said. Merlin laughed, prodding Arthur’s side. Merlin kissed his temple when Arthur wriggled deeper in his arms, his lips in half a smile.

“Same, prat.”

**Author's Note:**

> You may have guessed I didn't go to Stern. This guess would be correct.


End file.
